All's Fair in Love and War
by WhiteMustang1
Summary: World War 1 was hard for the Russian Army, despite their great numbers. The Germans were much better equipped to fight this war that neither side had wanted. What will happen when Ivan, the most important Russian general, is nearly killed? Will the country of Russia go into chaos at the near loss of it's leader? Rated T. RusGer eventually. I do not own Hetalia or it's characters.
1. Chapter 1: Ambushed

This is my first RusGer story and also my first attempt at writing, outside of writing essays c: I don't know if I'll continue this, I'd like to, but my confidence isn't very high with my writings. I'd need a lot a little bit of encouragement to continue since I'm not very sure of if people would like my writings. If I do continue, this will eventually become more obviously RusGer. Eventually, as in, I have no idea when, it could be in the next chapter or after 3 more chapters. I'll just have to see how it goes ^^

Anyways, to give a bit more understanding to the story, this story is set during World War 1. I'm a big history nut, especially with the world wars(And even more especially with World War 2), so I try to keep this as historically accurate as possible. Mustard Gas was used by the German Army in WW1. It wasn't exactly poisonous, but for the purposes of the story, I decided to make it a bit more severe. The story may switch POV's occasionally, but it'll primarily be in Ivan's POV.

* * *

"_I need help._" The young general thought. He was alone, laying in an open field, and injured. He had received a bullet to his stomach and a knife wound to his left shoulder, but the amount of blood around him and the intensity of the pain throughout his body told him that those weren't the only injuries he had sustained. His throat and nose were burning unbearably and he could feel them starting to swell as panicked thoughts raced through his mind. He knew it was something in the air causing the burn and swelling sensation. Perhaps, he thought, that is why his men abandoned him so quickly. As he contemplated this thought, he recalled the events that occurred before he had been abandoned.

_ We had been fighting a small army of Germans when, suddenly, they retreated. We were all confused at this sudden retreat, but we were nonetheless happy to make it out alive. Most of us, anyways. A good number of my men had been killed, and a small portion of them had been injured. I was the worst injured out of them all. I can generally make it out of a battle relatively unscathed, thanks to my experience and strength, but we had been ambushed in an area that I didn't think had enemy troops in it. I'm not quite sure how they ambushed us without being spotted beforehand. Though, it's likely nobody was looking for enemies in a land that I had assured them was safe. They ambushed me first before attacking the rest of my army. Whether or not they knew who I was or if I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm not sure. What I do know is that my trip to check on my men suddenly became a life or death struggle. I realize now that an enemy soldier was hiding in a nearby bush. He had shot me in the abdomen, then another solider promptly stabbed my shoulder while I was distracted with being shot. I don't know where he could've come from. Perhaps he was bold enough to have been following behind me the entire time?_

_ Where he came from isn't important. A full-on battle ensued shortly after I was ambushed. I was easily able to disregard the pain coming from my wounds. I've lived my life only knowing the pain of war. Though, I'm sure it hindered my ability to fight unknowingly. Several of my men had been killed before news of the German attack spread throughout the camp. After all, it was 11pm at night when the attack began. Most of my troops were asleep, resting themselves after a long day of walking. We hadn't yet reached the actual battle grounds. Apparently the battle grounds had been extended without me being notified. Those who were not asleep were enjoying the peaceful, cloudless night by sitting around a small bonfire, no doubt talking about their daydreams of returning home to their families. Some of us were unarmed; however, we had more weapons that the other units. Most of the Russian army has to fight weaponless. Our numbers are strong, but our country is not nearly as industrial as Germany is. We have a limited supply of firearms because of this. Regardless of the lack of weapons, my men fought with all they had. We retreated into an open field after realizing the Germans were surrounding us. I knew that leaving camp could mean certain death, but staying in camp and letting us become surrounded by the enemy would leave us no chance of surviving._

_ Surprisingly, not too long after we had abandoned camp to fight in the field, the Germans retreated as quickly as they attacked. We didn't celebrate this supposed victory though, there were some men who had been injured and needed medical treatment. Thankfully, one of the soldiers was smart enough to grab a small medical kit before we left camp. He tried to treat me first, but I had refused and told him to care for his fellow troops before he treated me. I didn't understand why he looked so confused and worried and... perhaps a bit scared? Though, now I understand that it was probably because I looked like, and still look like, a train had ran over me, yet I was refusing to be treated. He must've thought I was crazy. It didn't much matter if I let him treat me anyways. Just a few minutes after the Germans had retreated, one of my men shouted something. He sounded panicked and scared. I don't know what he had said, but whatever it was it sent the rest of my men into a panicked frenzy. It was quite funny, actually. There were about four dozen fully grown men running around like chickens with their heads cut off. I should've been worried, but what was there to be worried about? The Germans had retreated and were no where to be seen. I figured they were just on edge and overreacted to a wild animal that was mistaken to be an enemy soldier. I laughed at them, though it was painful to do so. The effects of my wounds were slowly replacing the adrenaline in my body. Then, they did something I've never seen before. They abandoned me. They abandoned a general. Not only that, they abandoned a general that is injured. What a bunch of cowards._

_ I had tried to follow after them. I got a few feet before I stumbled and fell onto my stomach, unable to get back up. Certainly a simple bullet and stab wound wasn't enough to take me down? Ah well, whenever I fight my mind tends to go into a haze. It would be pointless to try and remember if I got hurt while fighting. Something isn't right though. Why would they just abandon me? Did something happen that I didn't know about? Sure, one of the soldiers yelled something, but I never saw the enemy attack. And what's with the smell of the air? Why is it making my nose and throat swell? It's as if I'm smelling poison._

The general's amethyst eyes widened with this realization. The look of confusion on his face was quickly replaced with a blank expression. He had heard the Germans were experimenting with some kind of noxious gas, but actually believing such a thing was unthinkable. He had to get out of here, for his safety and the safety of his country. If he was to die, his country would soon follow behind him. He had hoped his men would come back to get him, but he now knows that they wouldn't do so if the air was poisonous. The young man used every bit of strength he had left towards attempting to crawl out of the area. He found this to be extremely difficult though. The pain radiated throughout his body no matter what he did or how slow he did it. Every breath he took burned and made his throat swell further, as if his neck was a mouse that was slowly being constricted by a snake every time it breathed. Panic began to set in as his pace slowed down to almost not moving at all. He figured that by now he was at least away from the area where the poison is strongest. Looking over his uninjured shoulder to confirm this to himself, he was met with disappointment. He had crawled barely 15 feet away from where he started. The general noticed that he was leaving a messy trail of blood as he crawled. He half smiled and chuckled lowly to himself as he compared himself to a snail. "_If I am to die,_" he thought, "_at least I should make it somewhat enoyable._" However, he refused to give up trying until he breathed his last breath. As he continued his lame attempt to crawl away, he thought of his two sisters, the only family he has. He smiled as he thought of the good times he had with them and frowned when he thought of the bad times.

The dying man's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of dirt crunching underneath boots. His senses were quickly beginning to fail him as he noted that his vision was blurring every few seconds. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He stopped moving and strained himself to listen to the crunching as it got closer and closer. He tried to calculate how close the stranger must be in relation to how loud the sound was, but thinking alone was becoming a strenuous task. The noise became louder and louder, then, it stopped. The injured general knew that it was likely the stranger had stopped in front of him. He silently wondered if maybe the sound was just his ears playing tricks on him, giving him a false hope of living. The mind is a rather tricky thing, after all. It doesn't want to die. Even when faced with impending death, it will still try to make the person think they'll be okay. Hoping that his brain wouldn't be that cruel to him, he forced himself to lift his head and tilt it upwards as far as it would allow him to, which, wasn't very much. He did indeed see a man standing before him. A soldier who could help him. The mysterious soldier was quite tall, almost as tall as he himself was. He had a muscular build, but his face was hidden behind a gas mask to protect him from the effects of the noxious air. He smiled hopefully at the man, but his hopes were quickly dashed when he saw an iron cross on the stranger's collar. The only soldiers who wear iron crosses are the Germans. While studying the German soldier's uniform, he realized the man was not a soldier, but was actually a high-ranked military officer. He didn't know what rank the man was, though it's not like it mattered. He was going to die here anyways. "_To be killed by an army from a country that's not even a half century old.. How pathetic.._" After mentally insulting himself, his blurred vision turned black and his body went limp.

* * *

"You idiots!" shouted a man. This man isn't easy to anger, but his soldiers seem to know the buttons they need to push to infuriate him. His voice is low and deep, able to subdue those into obeying him even if he was merely whispering to them. Of course, it was not fear that made people immediately obey his commands. He is not a scary man; he wouldn't harm anybody unless they harmed him. His voice, stature and looks all silently demanded respect without him ever having to ask for it. People sensed this about him and never felt the need to go against him. His deep voice is laced with a German accent and perhaps adds to the requirement of respect from others. He is a man who gets things done and gets them done right in a timely manner. He is quite stoic, but doesn't fear his emotions nor does he fear to show them when the time is appropriate. His looks are just as appealing and strong as his personality is. The iris in his eye's looked as though somebody had stolen the coloration from the clearest, most beautifully blue ocean. Such eyes showed that he had compassion but also believed in the notion of tough love. His golden blonde hair added to his handsome facial features. He was always clean shaven. Sometimes his men would place bets on when they would finally see their general with even the slightest of stubble. Whenever the general gets angry, like he is now, you know somebody must have messed up really bad.

"Sir, how were we suppose to know?" The question came from one of the soldiers standing before the general. He looked rather worried at seeing his general react in such a way. The question only seemed to further anger the general.

"Could you not see his uniform? Could you not see that he and his men were better armed than the others? Didn't you notice these things and realize that his unit wasn't just another regular set of Russian troops?" The general asked. He waited for a response, but when he received none within the next few seconds, he sighed heavily and slicked his hair back again. In his anger he had allowed a few strands of hair to become misplaced. No matter what the situation is, he couldn't allow himself to look so sloppy.

"Yes, sir, we did notice those things and we did realize that.." the young soldier said, taking a pause to collect his thoughts. "But we just thought that taking them out would mean being closer to defeating the Russian Army."

The general took a few seconds to think before responding to the soldier. "Defeating the Russian Army is one of our goals. But, that doesn't mean I want the country of Russia to fall. The world would go into chaos if that were to happen, what with all the nations of the world scrambling to take the land Russia left behind." He paused before continuing. "Which, if somebody doesn't get out there soon and treat that unit's general, will happen." His words had a sense of calmed urgency.

"Yes sir, I'll go and make sure he's cared for." The soldier began to leave the room before the general's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"No, you go back to your unit. I'll get him myself." As he spoke, the general was already gathering various materials and objects. A medical kit to at least sterilize and bandage the wounds, two high-quality gas masks, and, most importantly, a pistol. He wants to appear friendly to any enemy troops he could come across, he has more important matters to attend to than dealing with enemies, but he doesn't want to be defenseless.

The young man looked concerned and was going to voice his opposition to the general going out on his own and possibly getting shot, but decided that the more war-experienced man knew what he was doing. He left the room with a nod, leaving the general to figure out his rescue plan by himself.

Knowing the urgency of the situation, the young general wasted no time. He gathered and brought with him only the essentials. His camp's location wasn't too far away from the downed general's, so he decided it would be more time effective to simply go there on foot than take the time to find an unused military vehicle he could use. It didn't take very long for him to start smelling the mustard gas in the air. How could his men be so ignorant? Not only that, they had used a mustard gas bomb not too far from their own camp! Luckily for them, the wind is moving away from the camp. Otherwise the entire unit would've had to abandon the area until the gas dissipated. The general put on his gas mask at this point. He had left his military cap back in his office on his desk, knowing he'd just have to take it off to put on the mask. Although he wanted to, he didn't try to run towards the area his soldier said the injured general was at. To do so would be to possibly attract unwanted attention from enemy soldiers, and if the injured general was still alert, he could shoot him, thinking that he's attacking the already wounded man. He tried to keep his thoughts calm and collected as he walked as quickly as he could without making much noise. Though, as he kept walking, he silently began to panic. He didn't show it, but his mind was racing with "what if" questions; questions that didn't have good answers. He tried not to think of such things, the injured man was going to be just fine. Wouldn't he? What if he was dead by the time he could get there? What if a pack of wild animals saw him and attacked him while he was weak? Worst of all, what if he got there just to see him die? He shuttered at the thought. Out of all the possibilities, he'd want to see the last one happen the least.

In the distance, he could see something slowly crawling on the ground. At first he thought it was just a large rock, but as he watched the 'rock,' he realized it was actually something very slowly crawling. That had to be him, right? What else could it be? His thoughts continued with unanswerable questions as he came closer to whatever was on the ground. It wasn't very long before he was able to identify the man as being the person he's looking for. "iWell, he's at least still alive. "_He's not moving much anymore, but he's alive._" His thoughts calmed him down some. He cautiously approached the wounded man. He saw the large puddle of red liquid that had a trail of blood leading to the dying man. The general stopped a few feet in front of the man to make sure he wouldn't be attacked in his attempt to help him. He watched the injured general carefully, watching the man as he lifted his head to look up. He was glad to see him smile, but after seeing the man's smile fall, he realized that the man didn't recognize him because of his gas mask. After a few seconds of each of them watching the other person's movements, the injured man's head fell back onto the ground with a thud. The uninjured general visibly panicked at that. He kneeled down on one leg and gently shook the wounded man's uninjured shoulder in an attempt to get a response. "Russia, are you okay? Russia?" His voice showed his panicked state. After getting no response, he checked the man's pulse by placing two fingers on the man's neck, underneath his jaw. "_There's still a pulse._" With this conclusion, his calm and collected attitude returned. He moved his fingers off of the man's neck. He moved over beside the man rather than being in front of him, then gently rolled him onto his back. He put his hands underneath the man's head, lifted his head up, and put the spare gas mask he had onto the man's head. Once reassured that he's no longer breathing toxic air, he looked over the man's body to asses any wounds he has. There were quite a few of them. By now, most of the wounds weren't bleeding too bad. He decided that it would be safer to take him back to camp before messing with and possibly reopening the man's wounds. He scooped the man up into his arms, being careful and mindful of the wounds he might have on his back, and stood up straight. The man was heavier than he previously thought, but that was not his concern right now. He made sure the man kept breathing regularly as he carried him back to his camp.


	2. Chapter 2: In Enemy Grounds

(1) If you don't remember, Russia's left shoulder had been injured. (2) The nurse's speech will be purposely incorrect, since she doesn't speak English well. (3) This is military time. 2300 hours means that it's 11pm. Another note that I forgot to add to the first chapter's description is that, when something is said in italics, that means that character is thinking whatever had been said in italics.

I've also decided that the story, as of right now and until further notice, is taking place between late February of 1917 and October of 1917. We'll just say it's March of 1917 right now. In mid-late February of 1917, the Tsar of Russia was overthrown after the military refused to listen to him. In late October of 1917, the new Soviet government of Russia withdrew from the war with a decree of peace. The months between February and October were very chaotic for the Russian government.

* * *

The next time the young violet-eyed general awoke, he was inside of a modestly sized room. As he dazedly shifted his head around to take in his surroundings, he noticed a few things. The walls were plain and devoid of color and design, as if whoever built this room wanted to do it as quickly as he could. There were no windows in this room either. The only thing that kept the room from darkness was a ceiling light. Strangely, there is a twin-sized bed up against the wall on the other side of the room, next to the door that allows one to enter the room. The bed is accompanied by two nightstands on it's sides. The rest of the room is quite empty. It has only the bare necessities. The lack of objects left the room with a very impersonal feeling, as if the user of the room would only come in when absolutely necessary. He noticed another thing that is probably more important than how the room itself looked. The Russian general realized that he was in another bed and that he could breathe fairly well now with little pain in his throat and nose. The man attempted to sit up, but quickly found that doing so caused him a lot of pain. Instead, he decided to lift the sheets of the bed with his right arm, as his left arm was painful to move(1). He looked over his body to find the source of the pain. Instead of seeing the military uniform he was once wearing, he saw several bandages across his chest, stomach, and his left shoulder. Well, that explains why he's in pain. He noticed that, although he had been stripped of his uniform, he was still wearing his pants and socks. "_Well,_" the young man thought, "_At least that means my legs aren't injured._"

As the Russian began to think of why he's here and where he's at, the door to the room opened. The man shifted his head to the side to see who entered the room. He was greeted with the smiling face of a young female nurse. He smiled back to her, just as he would always do when somebody else is around him. He isn't trying to hide anything behind his smile, though. It's simply in his nature to try and be friendly around others. He knows that he looks rather intimidating, which only adds to his want to come across as friendly. He's rather tall, standing at about 6'2", his body is muscular, but due to his build his muscles can be mistaken for chubbiness if he is fully clothed. His face, however, is more rounded and childlike. His voice compliments his innocent face. When he speaks in English, his voice is sweet and soft. Though he has a noticeable Russian accent, it doesn't really add any negative effects to his voice. In fact, it makes his voice sound sweeter. However, he can easily make himself become scary and intimidating if the situation deems it necessary. Since he is Russian, he can speak Russian as well as English. His Russian voice is much different from his English voice. When he speaks in his native tongue, his voice becomes much deeper and much less innocent. This is due to how the Russian language is spoken. It's almost impossible to sound sweet while speaking Russian. Because of this, he refrains from speaking Russian in front of strangers. Despite his childish face and his attempts to come across as a good guy, the young man still finds that some people are afraid of him. The nurse didn't seem as though she was afraid though. She seemed friendly, but she still approached the man with caution.

"Hallo. My name ist Gisela. I am your nurse.(2)" The woman spoke with a very thick German accent. Her short sentences along with her pauses between words implied that she didn't know English very well.

Oh great. He is in German territory. Not only that, but he's clearly been captured by the Germans. "My nurse? But I do not need a nurse." His smile didn't fade as he spoke to the nurse. Although he knew he was injured and most likely did need a nurse, he didn't want to admit to his weakness. At least, not to a stranger.

Gisela chuckled lightly at his response. "You Russens don't show weak until dead, ja?" She's joking with him at least. That must mean she's not afraid. Yet again, she probably knew of his injuries and knew he couldn't even lift his left arm, let alone hurt anybody. Unable to think of how to verbally respond to her, he just continued smiling at her. By this time, she was standing beside his bed. "I know it is... how you say, awkward, but I need to look at wounds. You mind?" It took him a few seconds to understand exactly what she meant. Though, once he figured it out, he nodded his approval to her. He isn't very comfortable with somebody looking at him without a shirt on; after all, he'd always been left to care for himself in these kinds of situations. However, he figured it wouldn't be wise to refuse medical treatment if it's offered to him. The nurse carefully folded back the sheet that was covering the injured general after the man said she could do so. She unwrapped the gauze that protected his wounds as gently as she could. After doing so, she began the process of retreating and then re-wrapping his wounds with the gauze she had pulled out of the pockets on her dress. Due to most of the wounds being on his stomach and chest, the young man would sometimes have to strenuously lift his back up some to have the gauze wrapped around his back, and then back over the wound. All while she was doing this, he watched her. As he watched, he noticed his wounds didn't look as fresh as he would think they would be.

"Nurse, why don't my injuries look fresh?" The nurse glanced over at the man briefly, then smiled and returned to her work.

"You been asleep past two days. Injured too much." Her response was short, but he understood. The blood regeneration and energy spent on healing wounds must have been taking a lot out of him. He didn't go into a coma, but his body had to focus it's attention and energy on healing. Not to mention he was tired before this all happened. War is very exhausting, after all. This meant his body had decided to sleep until it could afford to spend energy on being awake. The nurse continued treating him until his wounds were covered with gauze. The man is in slightly more pain than he was before since his injuries had been agitated, but he didn't complain. "All done. I will check on you soon." The nurse smiled at him a last time, then took her leave out of the room.

After the general watched her leave, he took a few more minutes to take in his surroundings before letting himself drift back into blackness. It was hard to let himself sleep knowing that he's in enemy territory, but he is still very tired. His exhaustion meant that his people were tired as well, that is, tired of fighting. The Tsar of Russia had also recently been dethroned, causing chaos back in the Motherland. The general desperately needs to return home to hopefully restore order in his country before everything falls apart. He was set to return home after another couple of weeks worth of fighting, but it is now clear that he may be stuck here for a while.

A few hours passed before the Russian had the energy to wake up again. His waking wasn't by his own will though. His stomach had roared loud enough to wake himself up. Two days of not eating meant that he was incredibly, and painfully, hungry. Despite his hunger, he isn't that much thirsty. He supposed the nurse had came in every couple of hours for the past two days to put a little bit of liquid into his mouth, just enough to keep him hydrated. As he wondered how exactly this could've been achieved without him being woken up, his stomach interrupted him with a loud rumble. He really needed to eat soon. Though, it appears as if it's nighttime now. The chances of the nurse still being awake is slim to none. The room has no windows to verify what time of day it is, but the general assumed that, since the ceiling light in the room is turned off, that must mean it's past dusk. He lifted his head upwards a little, just enough to look around the room and see if there is anything he can do to get somebody's attention. His searching looked to be in vain though, the door to his room is closed and there would be no hope of him being able to stand up. Not without help, at least.

The general was about to give up and try to get more sleep when he noticed that there's an occupied chair at the end of his bed. "_How could I of missed that?"_ He concluded that the darkness of the room masked the chair and the person sitting on it. The person in the chair certainly isn't the nurse. Although the man's vision is limited in the pitch black room, he could tell the outline of the figure sitting in the chair is male. That, or the person is a woman with a masculine body. Now that he has found somebody to help him, he just has to find a way to get their attention. The person doesn't look like they were actually watching him, it's more like the person had fallen asleep in the chair.

He really hated being in this situation. He hated being unable to do anything for himself and having to rely on another person to help him. He hated looking so weak and vulnerable. Despite this, he isn't going let his pride stand in the way of his survival, no matter how weak it made him look. The young man decided the best way to get the person's attention is to knock on the wall beside his bed. He moved his right arm up above himself, then he moved it backwards until his hand touched the wall that is behind his bed's headboard. He knocked gently, silently hoping to himself that the person didn't hear the knocking. The man waited for a few seconds, but after getting no response, he decided to swallow his pride and knock again, only louder. This time, his call for help caused the person at the end of his bed to stir. He remained quiet as he watched and listened to the other person. He saw the person's figure move their head back into an upright position while he listened to them yawn. He saw them move their head again after a couple of seconds, though he isn't sure if they turned to look at him or if they looked away from him. He decided the former was what had happened, considering the person stood up from their chair after turning their head.

"Hold on, I will turn on the lights." The person is definitely male. There is no way a woman could have such a deep, stern voice. The Russian general nodded his approval with a smile, even though he is sure the other man couldn't see him in the dark. He silently watched as the man walked over to the only door in the room. The other man walked at a fair pace with caution. After all, it would be rather embarrassing for the other man to trip over something in front of an enemy general, regardless of the amount of light in the room. Once the other man reached the door, he placed his hand onto the wall beside the door and began to feel for the light switch. He found it before his blind feeling of the wall became embarrassing, and immediately after the room was filled with light radiating off of the ceiling fixture. The sudden light was blinding to the Russian, who's eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the darkness. He had to briefly close his eyes to allow them time to adjust before opening them again. Once he did reopen his eyes, he saw a familiar figure sitting down onto the chair next to his bed's foot board. Apparently the few seconds he took to close his eyes was enough time for the other man to go back to the chair and sit down again. The Russian's smile reappeared after it's brief disappearance when he had closed his eyes.

"Privet, Germany! What are you doing here? I thought that nurse was here to take care of me." The young man certainly didn't expect to see another person who represented their country, like himself. The Russian general actually worked as a sort of ageless personification of his country. Though, except for those who were the same as he is, not many people knew that. Due to the type of life he lives, he's not allowed to make friends with those who are regular humans. The only friendships he can have are the ones with other representations of countries. During times of war, he's allowed to take the position of a high-ranked general under his human name. All of his kind have human names, though, they do not call each other by their human names. To keep things simple and formal, they are simply called by the name of the country they represent. Because of this, these people are often considered to actually be the country they are representing. Those who have personal relationships with other human representations will call each other by their human name when not at professional meetings.

"She is. She has to sleep too, though. She had told me you had woken up a few hours ago, but when I came into the room you were already asleep. I sat down in this chair and have been waiting for you to wake up again." The other man, named Germany, paused to sigh and briefly close his eyes before looking at him again and resuming his speech. "It's been a long day though, so I fell asleep too." While waiting for the Russian to respond to him, he made sure his hair had not become unkempt during his sleep.

"I see..." The Russian general paused to think about what to say next. "Why have you been waiting then? Surely you have more important things to do. This is war, after all."

"I wanted to know why you're still wounded." Germany waited before continuing, hoping that the Russian man would answer his question without needing more of an explanation for why he's asking him about his wounds. When he received no response from the other man, only a smile with a slight look of confusion, he continued. "Your wounds, why are they not healed? I know that those who are... unique, like you and me, can heal any wounds with relative ease after a couple hours. I didn't know if inhaling toxic chemicals could hurt you, so I set out to try and find you as soon as I had found out one of my men had detonated a mustard gas bomb. I wasn't too surprised to see that you were still covered in wounds, but it's been two days and you've barely healed at all. It's as if your like a normal human now. Why is this?"

The Russian man looked at him with confusion, then chuckled lightly when he realized. "You've never been in a war, have you?" His question's was answered with the other man moving his head side-to-side. He could tell that the other man was probably confused by this question, but confusion is a vulnerability and must not be shown when in the presence of a country that is bigger and older than your own. "That's right, your country is too young to have been in a major war..." The Russian was mostly speaking to himself. "You see, war doesn't just affect your people and country. If your country is winning a more serious war, then usually your strength will steadily increase. However, if you are losing, your strength will deteriorate. You don't physically lose any muscles if you're losing a war, but you'll find it harder and harder to do things that were once easy to do. Sometimes losing a war will have a greater impact than just a loss of strength. It doesn't happen very often anymore, but war can kill a person like me and you. It's a difficult concept to understand how and why it happens, but it can happen." He took a long pause to think about how he would try to explain to the younger man.

"You see, your health is dependent on three different things. First, your people. If your people are young and strong, you will be stronger. Second, your military. The stronger your armies are, the stronger you are. Some countries don't have much of a military, but they are still strong as if they have a strong military. This is because they have the resources and the ability to make a strong army, but choose not to. Third is your government, which has three more things that make up the overall health of your country's government. The more stable your government, the better. It also helps if your people are happy with your government. The last thing is how much debt you have. Owing other countries is never a good thing. If any of those aren't doing so good, or if your country is in a revolution, then you become more prone to becoming more likely to die from a wound." The Russian sighed, his smile had slowly faded as he had been talking until it had completely disappeared. "Right now, my country is suffering in all of those categories. My people are young, but weak from war. My military is on the verge of being completely wiped out, even though I put my country into debt just to pay for my armies. My government is very unstable, the Tsar was recently overthrown, and my country is in a revolution. My country as a whole is very weak and might collapse if things don't start getting better, and so I am weak and I'm hurt more easily. I'm not in danger of dying though, not until my country collapses." At the end of his speech, the Russian man looked physically exhausted.

Germany remained quiet and listened intently as his Russian counterpart spoke. "_So we are able to die?_" He had always wondered if people like the Russian man and himself could die, but he never could figure out how it could be possible. He had told the young soldier who had informed him that there was a Russian general who had been injured and was in the center of where they had detonated a mustard gas bomb that the general would die without help, but he didn't know he actually could die. He only said that to get the soldier to understand the severity of his mistake. It was likely the soldier didn't even understand why the fate of an entire country rested on the shoulders of one general anyways. However, after the soldier gave him a description of what the injured general looked like and the clothing he wore, Germany knew the Russian man was more than just another general. After concluding his thoughts, Germany decided to ask the Russian another question. "Why are you telling me of this then? Why would you admit to being weak?" The German man was surprised by the Russian's honesty. If he were in his place, he would've denied any kind of weakness, whether he had it or not.

The Russian's smile returned with the German's question; he perked up as if he hadn't admitted defeat just a few seconds prior. "You wouldn't overrun my country and cause my government to collapse. That would be stupid." The German almost looked to be insulted, as if the Russian had called him stupid, but before he could voice his objection, the Russian continued speaking. "I don't know if you've noticed, but my country is big. In fact, it's the biggest country in the world!" His voice sounded very childish, almost as if he's a kid who's proud of having the biggest sandcastle at the beach. "If my government were to collapse, my land would be free to be overtaken by any country that wants it. Just think of all the wars that would happen over who owns what territory. This war we're in is supposed to end all wars, but if the country of Russia is to collapse by your hands, then the world will be plunged into more wars." Although he had been speaking seriously most of the time, his voice retained it's innocent tone.

Germany nodded at the Russian. "That is true. I have no intentions of overrunning your country, though. I've thought about what would happen if your country was to fall before, and I came up with the same conclusion myself. Where your country is now would just turn into a big war zone. I'm not looking to conquer other countries anyways; it would just be another headache for me." His voice sounded a tad irritated at the end of his speech, though he wasn't irritated with the Russian. His irritation stems from all the work that's been put unto him, thanks to The Great War. The mere thought of more work is enough to irritate him even more. He stood up from his chair. "You should get some more rest, Russia. It's already a few minutes past 2300 hours(3)." The man named Russia appeared as though he was going to nod his head, when suddenly he looked as though he had just remembered something very important.

"Wait! The whole reason why I woke you up was because I'm really hungry." How could he have forgotten? He must've been too distracted with talking to remember why he had woken Germany up in the first place. As soon as he had remembered though, his stomach growled loudly. It probably wasn't happy with the idea of going to back to sleep before being refilled.

Germany couldn't help but crack a smile and chuckle a bit after he looked back at the other man. He found how the man asked for food in such a childish tone to be funny, not to mention the loud stomach growl that immediately followed afterwards. "I'll go see what we have to spare." He looked ahead of himself, then walked to the room's door and proceeded to exit the room.


End file.
